


the dawn of this

by fensandmarshes



Category: Mo Dao Zu Shi, 乱魄 | Fatal Journey (2020), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Niè Huáisāng Character Study, Podfic Welcome, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THAT WAS A CANONICAL TAG, angst n fluff, don't think this is what she wanted, lucy said "give nhs a hug" and i said "okay"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fensandmarshes/pseuds/fensandmarshes
Summary: Tonight, his dreamscape has chosen to wear the skin of Qinghe in winter; Nie Huaisang leans on a parapet at dawn and tastes ice crystals in the air, in a body that’s smaller and wearing robes that are not those of a Sect Leader, but of the Sect Leader’s only heir. His hands are gloved, he notes, as he rests against the wall. A footstep sounds behind him, and then another, and he doesn’t have to turn to recognise the tread.
Relationships: Niè Huáisāng & Niè Míngjué
Comments: 28
Kudos: 87





	the dawn of this

**Author's Note:**

> love u lucy :) :) :)

Nie Huaisang blinks his eyes open, and squints against a rising sun. 

This isn’t real - Nie Huaisang has long since learned to distinguish between his dreams and the waking world. (Generally, the main indicative factor is the presence of a dead relative or friend, or two, or five.) But he will allow himself to pretend. For as long as the dream deigns to last. For as long as he can bear to walk among the dead, until the relief turns to anguish with the dawn. 

Tonight, his dreamscape has chosen to wear the skin of Qinghe in winter; Nie Huaisang leans on a parapet at dawn and tastes ice crystals in the air, in a body that’s smaller and wearing robes that are not those of a Sect Leader, but of the Sect Leader’s only heir. His hands are gloved, he notes, as he rests against the wall. A footstep sounds behind him, and then another, and he doesn’t have to turn to recognise the tread.

“Da-ge.” He doesn’t choke as he says it; there’s barely a shiver in his voice. He’s doing quite well, all things considered.

“A-Sang,” his brother scowls, in a voice that’s pitchy and adolescent, and oh - this is the brother Nie Huaisang barely remembers, with shorter hair and darker robes, barely of a height to hold his saber. This dawn over the Unclean Realm is from a long time ago, then. Long before the Sunshot Campaign. “It’s not like you have other brothers. Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be -”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang repeats, and this time his throat has closed up. He turns to face his brother. Who is so young. “You’re - here, and you’re so -”

“What is wrong with you today,” his brother says snippily. Because he’s not ‘da-ge’, not yet - Nie Huaisang remembers calling him gege, and blinks back tears that are equal parts nostalgia and grief, even now. “I’ve been trying to find you for thirty minutes. Why are you up here?”

This is a dream, Nie Huaisang knows, and he has no real need to make excuses. But he lets himself fall back into stammering - if for nothing else, to maintain the facade, to pretend that this is real for a moment longer. If he were truly this young again, caught watching the sunrise from the highest tower of the Unclean Realm, what would he say? “I wanted to paint it,” he offers. “The sunrise is pretty.”

“Of course it is,” his brother sniffs. “It’s pretty every morning. Why are you really here?”

“Just,” Nie Huaisang begins, and then breaks off; he reaches for Nie Mingjue with child’s hands. “Just - you’re content? Are you happy?”

“I’m fine, didi.” His da-ge squints. “Are you?” 

Nie Huaisang catches his breath at the honorific - his brother doesn’t use it much, and he knows that its presence here is an attempt to comfort him. “I know this isn’t real,” he confesses, startling himself with his candor. “This is a dream. But I wish I could believe -”

“Then pretend,” his da-ge says, and crosses the tower in long strides to drag Nie Huaisang into a bone-crushing hug. 

Nie Huaisang does not begin to weep at that, but it’s a close thing. Here - in dreams - his walls are lowered, and even his da-ge’s imaginary presence is enough to reduce him from the cold man he’s become to the idealistic boy he used to be. “I never got the chance to grieve you,” he mumbles, into his sixteen-year-old brother’s shoulder; their height difference is even greater than Nie Huaisang remembers it being at twenty and twenty-eight. “I knew you’d want -”

“Shut up.”

Nie Huaisang snorts a laugh. “Huh?”

“You heard exactly what I said, you little shit. Don’t make me say it again.” 

Oddly enough, it’s this that breaks what little composure Nie Huaisang still carried; he makes a sound low in his throat somewhere between another laugh and a sob. Leaning into his brother’s hug, he relaxes.

Nie Mingjue has been dead for twenty years. Nie Huaisang has called him ‘da-ge’ for even longer. But here, in this frosty Qinghe dawn, in a simpler time before everything shattered - Nie Huaisang holds his only brother, and sniffs into the crumpled fabric at his shoulder, and lets himself linger in a dream for a moment longer.

**Author's Note:**

> kinda guessed at the age difference tbh? it's blurry but it's between 6 and 8 years so. also no fucking clue how old either of them were when nmj died, but the cql timeline is already a hot mess so i just gave up on getting a straight answer.


End file.
